Watching Over You
by Claire M C
Summary: See? This is what happens when I leave. People I care about get hurt and die." Sequel to 'Keeping Watch'. JoshDonna. "Memorial Day" Spoilers. Complete


_Story Info_

Sequel to 'Keeping Watch'

Spoilers: Up to the end of Season Five

Disclaimer: All publicly recognisable characters and places are the property of Aaron Sorkin, NBC. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes and no infringement on copyrights or trademarks was intended. Previously unrecognised characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.  
Author's Notes: I wrote this after the Season Five Finale "Memorial Day", it was during the break between the end of Season Five and Season Six, so this was just speculation on what could have happened. :-)

"_I just want to grow with my job, do something meaningful, do more than earn a paycheque until I die."_

"_You're going on a CODEL to the Middle East with Fitzwallace and Andi."_

"_Explosion in Gaza. The CODEL. Some fatalities."_

"_So, she's going to be okay?"_

"_At the moment, I'm more worried about you."_

"_There's been a complication. She's developed a pulmonary embolism. It's a blood clot."_

They say that everything that goes around comes around. History repeats itself and…well I can't really think of anymore clichéd phrases that may go some way to explain why this is happening.

See? This is what happens when I leave.

People I care about get hurt and die.

People I love…

I'm still getting used to saying that to myself.

I love her. I love Donnatella Moss.

Wow.

You'd be surprised the impact those few four words have on me. And I haven't even said them out loud. I'm not one for grand declarations. She knows that.

When she woke up I thought…I don't know how to explain it.

When I heard her voice, even though it was cracked and dry, it made my stomach flip about ten times over. And she was Donna, she was typical, normal Donna. She wasn't sick Donna, okay I've never seen sick Donna but I didn't think she'd be the same as normal Donna with the giving out to me for not taking care of myself.

"_You need to shave."_

Shaving.

How could she expect me to do something so normal and ordinary and every day when she was blown up half way across the world?

But I guess that's just Donna, it's her thing. Like most people collect stamps, or philately, I smile to myself, Donna collects evidence of my self-neglect. Sometimes I think it's her personal mission on earth to sniff out indications of wrong doing on my part. I used to find it annoying and frustrating. I mean she's my assistant she should assist and not criticise and point out faults…

I'm beginning to wonder if she wasn't just worried about me. I know she worries about me, I guess I just never realised how much.

The shrill ringing of the cell phone distracts me and I carefully back away from the window, my eyes never leaving her as I flip it on.

"Yeah?"

"Josh?"

"Leo, hey. How's it going over there?"

"Not good. We've got a situation. I need you back here as soon as possible."

"I can't do that."

"Josh." I can hear Leo sigh. "You stay over there any longer and people, particularly _reporters_, are going to start asking questions. It doesn't exactly look great that the Deputy Chief of Staff is over in Germany at his assistants bedside when-"

"She's in surgery." I head him off my fingers tightening around the small box against my ear. He stays quiet for a few seconds but it seems like forever before he speaks again.

"What happened? I thought she was doing well. CJ said-"

"It's a pulmonary embolism Leo." I tell him quietly, my voice too hoarse and I hear his breath hitch.

"Noah." He whispers more to himself then to me. "God Josh, but at least…if she's in surgery they got it in time, right? They can help her."

"Yeah." God I hope they do. They better. Don't they know how much I need her? The country could literally fall to pieces if that woman doesn't get better. Seriously. She _is_ the Deputy Deputy Chief of Staff.

"Okay, stay." I let out the breath I hadn't realised I'd been holding.

"Thanks Leo."

"But I need you on the first plane outta there as soon as she's awake and out of danger, you hear me?"

"Loud and clear. Leo?" I call his name urgently as I continue to watch the pale face of my assistant. "I care about her Leo. A lot. I-I need her." I admit quietly.

"I know Josh. I know, but not now okay? Not now. When the kid wakes up make sure you give her our love." He hangs up and I move back towards the window trying not to focus on the scarlet red that covers the surgeon's gloves but on her face. Her silent, lifeless face.

_When_ she wakes up, Leo had said. He knows she'll wake up, he knows. And if there's one thing I've learned about Leo Mc Garry in all my years of knowing him, it's that Leo is always right. Always.

He'll be right this time too.

He has to be.

But God it's hard to believe when she's lying in there unconscious while doctors cut her open and pull and prod at her insides and…okay gotta breathe. Best not to think about that. Just think about her. About how great and wonderful she is and how much of a jerk you were not to notice it before now. Now when you might have lost her.

"Mr Lyman?"

"Yeah." I barely acknowledge the soft American twang.

"Mrs Moss is here. I thought you might like to see her."

"Mrs Moss…?" Finally I rip my eyes off my, I don't even know what to call her anymore, and turn to the copper haired nurse. "Where is she?" I ask already speeding towards the swinging doors, the nurse trailing behind me.

"She's in the waiting room."

I pause just outside, the nurse disappeared somewhere, I'm not sure where, don't really care much either.

Okay, this is it. I'm going to meet Donna's mother. Donna's Republican mother who'll probably hate me until the day I die for sending her daughter into the middle of what is effectively a war zone.

I can do this.

The metal handle feels strangely warm as I push it open before I can take the cowards way out and back away. It's been known to happen on occasion, not often you understand, but it has been known.

The first thing that hits me about this woman is her height. Or should I say lack thereof. Donna definitely doesn't get it from her mom. Seriously if she's 5'4" I'd be surprised.

Time to bite the bullet as they say.

My lips feel too dry so I quickly swipe my tongue along them and move into the middle of the room. Her eyes follow my every movement.

"Mrs Moss. I'm Josh Ly-"

"I know who you are Mr Lyman." She answers impatiently. "Have you seen my girl? Is she okay? They won't tell me a lot. Something about an embolism and surgery." Her voice cracks on the last word and her eyes, God they're Donna's eyes, fill with tears.

I touch her shoulder and lead her to the chairs. At least these ones are more comfortable looking then the ones they had me sitting in when I first got here.

"Donna's in surgery now. It's a- it's a pulmonary embolism. It means she has a blood clot in her lungs and the doctors are getting rid of it now."

"Oh my God." She whispers gripping onto my hand.

Her hair's darker then Donna's but she seems just as frail looking. Though Donna's anything but frail.

I'm torn. I want to stay here and comfort this woman that I don't know. I want to comfort her because she's Donna's mom and she looks a bit like her and Donna loves her. But I also want to get up out of this chair now, out of this room and go back to my silent vigil outside that operating room because I'm petrified that I could lose her when I'm not there.

What if something happens? What if something goes wrong? What if she stops breathing or bleeds to death right there on the operating table, her blood spilling over…. Oh God.

I can feel myself shaking and I can't get it under control. I need to but I can't. I can't.

I can feel a warmth cover my cold hands and I look down in surprise at Donna's moms hands covering mine.

"It's okay." She whispers. God her eyes really are like Donna's. She's got that same compassionate look about her. How is that possible? How can she possibly be so caring about a man she doesn't even know when Donna's _her_ daughter. How can she care about the man who's the reason her daughter being here?

"I'm sorry Mrs Moss-"

"My name's Marjorie." She says softly, her eyes are still bright and her smile is watery and really nothing more then a slight curving of the corners of her mouth, but God, she's actually smiling at me.

"I,I-"

"What's happened?"

Oh great. Heathcliff returns.

I stand up surprisingly steadily considering.

He walks towards me, a dark look overcomes his features.

"She has a blood clot." I tell him quietly. "She's in surgery now." Hey my voice has stopped shaking. Big plus there.

He looks over at Donna's mom obviously guessing who she is. He looks at me for confirmation and I guess I must give it cos he sits down beside her and takes her hand in his. She glances between us confused and I have to look away cos those eyes are just a bit too much for me right now. Instead I jam my hands into my pants pockets clenching and unclenching them.

"Mrs Moss? My name's Colin. I met your daughter in Gaza. She's an amazing person."

"Yes, she is."

"I brought her around Gaza, showed her the real things that were happening."

Marjorie's forehead creases. "A-and you came all the way to Landstuhl to see how she's doing?"

"Well Donna and I… we became close…" he briefly glances over at me, "we were friends."

I turn and walk towards the window, a rush of outrage overwhelming me and I don't want either of them to see that. How dare he? How dare he sit beside her and hold her hand! They were 'friends'!

Please.

He doesn't know Donna!

What, just because for some strange, unknown reason she let him touch her, he has some God given right to be the sympathetic supporter of her mom? _He_ gets to be the one that's upset? Hell no!

He may have slept with her, and God my chest contracts at that thought, but he doesn't _know_ her.

Not like I do.

What gives him the right to talk to her like that? To try and comfort her? I may not have been doing a stellar job but at least she knows me. Well, okay she doesn't, but at least she knows _of_ me, plus she's probably seen my picture in magazines and on telly.

Then again I am the man who makes her daughter work outrageous hours that usually keep her from meeting good decent men and settling down and getting married. And after all isn't that what every parent wants for their child? To settle down and be happy with someone to love and who loves them?

It's getting dark outside; in the reflection of the glass I can see the clock. It's just after seven.

Barely past lunch back home. Not that I ever really was a 'lunch' type of guy. Breakfast and dinner sure, but lunch? There's something about it that just doesn't hold any kind of importance with me, y'know? Mostly I forget all about it and by the time I remember it's already past dinnertime.

But sometimes when I'm outta the office in the morning and I come back in the afternoon there are sandwiches and usually an apple sitting on my desk. If I'm really lucky, there'll even be a bag of chips. 90 fat free of course, so not real chips, but chips none the less.

And I gotta say, I never understood this. I mean she refuses, refuses flat out, to get me a cup of coffee but she'll go and get me lunch. That makes no sense, right? Surely lunch is worse then coffee?

Am I missing something there?

Then again it would probably make sense if you heard Donna's weird, cute, roundabout logical explanation.

I need to get out of here. I've been away too long.

"Excuse me." I mutter absently my pace quickening as I leave the room behind and take the long walk back to the OR. And I can feel the panic building again, cos how long was I gone? Fifteen, twenty minutes? A lot can happen in fifteen or twenty minutes. A hell of a lot. People can die in that amount of time, hell in fifteen or twenty seconds.

Suddenly I'm standing in front of that window again and I sigh in relief. She's still breathing, she's still battling, she's still alive.

She's still Donna and Donna's a fighter.

Leo is right. She will make it through this.

I can feel my eyes glaze over as I watch her unblinking. I always thought Donna was a tall girl, not as tall as CJ obviously, but still tall. At least she always seemed that way to me. But now… I don't think I've ever seen her look so small in the entire time I've known her.

And that terrifies me.

But I remember Leo's words and I'm grasping onto them like a lifeline at the moment.

My head snaps to the right when I feel a touch on my arm.

It's Donna's mom, minus one Romeo. Though how she managed to make her way down here, I don't know.

"Where's…?"

"He's gone." She answers simply.

I can feel her take deep shallow breaths beside me. I hope it's helping her cos nothing is helping me right now.

God, does she know I'm the one that sent her on the CODEL?

The thought fills me with horror and dread and Donna's mom finally lets go of me and presses her palms against the glass, a sob coming from her.

"I'm sorry." I finally whisper to her. I don't think she hears me, she just keeps watching her, tears running down her face.

I've never seen my mom cry. She doesn't do it. At least not in front of people, especially not her son. She's always too busy looking after everyone else to think about herself. Sometimes I think she does it on purpose so I won't feel guilty or that she won't have to deal with the emotional aspect of anything. She puts it off for as long as possible until she's alone and the time is right to let it all out.

I remember when my dad died. She was so busy making sure everyone had enough to eat and drink she didn't really seem to grasp the gravity of the situation. Sometimes she still speaks about Dad as if he's still here. I dunno, maybe he is.

"This is the first time I've seen her in nearly three months."

The choked voice brings me back to the hospital and why I'm here. I don't say anything in reply. What can I say?

"She always said she couldn't make it. She didn't have the time. She was working."

I can feel myself wince at her bitter tone and the truth of her words hitting me. She lets out a strangled chuckle.

"She was going to come see us the weekend after she got back from Gaza. At least that's what she said. She easily could have had some crises or other at work. Some reason not to come home. Sometimes I think…I think we embarrass her. We're not the family she wants. Not only are we Republicans," she gives me a brief arch look, "but we're simple people. I'm not sure where she got her love of politics. It certainly wasn't from her father or me. After all I'm the mother who gives her children ridiculous names like Donnatella, not exactly the kind of person you'd associate with a great interest in politics." She pauses and takes a breath. "I don't do it to hurt them you know." She continues quietly. "I-I only do it because I know my children are unique, they're special. They stand out in the crowd. They're meant to. _My_ Donnatella's meant to." She speaks with a conviction that surprises me. I'd always assumed Donna's mom was obviously some crackpot giving her children names that would haunt them until the day they die.

I always thought 'how could she love her children and give them names like that?'

I understand now that it's because she loves them that she does.

Because Donna _is_ unique, Donna _is_ special.

And I _love_ the name Donnatella.

"Yes she is. She does."

"There are times when I speak to her on the phone, or when she does come to visit and it's almost as if…as if she looks down on us. There's a disappointment in her eyes, a longing for us to change, to be different."

I shake my head vehemently. "You're wrong. Donna loves her family, she'd never-"

"You think you know my daughter better then I do?" Her mother interrupts me looking at me a derisive smile on her face.

"I didn't mean t-"

"You probably do." She cuts me off, her voice shaking. She quickly swipes a hand over her cheeks and looks down at the moisture on her fingers.

She nods her head determinedly. "She'll be okay. She has her Dad's stubborn Irish blood running through her veins and her mother's will to prove everybody wrong." She sighs quietly to herself. "She's my little girl. She'll be fine."

She turns to me with a look so piercing I don't think I can move. "Sometimes I think I know you better then my own daughter."

"Donna loves her work, she's very dedicated-" I'm floundering and I know it.

"I know. You care about her."

"Of course I do. She's my friend. My best friend." I admit to her looking down at my scuffed shoes. How the hell did they get that dirty?

When I look up again she's studying me. Her eyes narrowed and head tilted as if I'm some sorta puzzle that has to be figured out. I look away planting my hands on my hips because, well, who likes being scrutinised like that. I briefly glance at her again and she shakes her head, a sad smile on her face.

I think she's going to say something but the doctors moving behind her, the doctors operating on Donna, moving away are the sole focus of my attention as I move closer to the window.

A nurse suddenly appears at our side.

"The doctors have finished operating." She says in a clipped tone. "It will be a few minutes before she's out, but she'll be fine."

"When will she wake up?" Her mother asks, her voice still a little uncertain.

"It will be a while. Probably a few hours." The nurse replies. "If you could wait in the waiting room, and we'll call you when we have her resettled in her room." She informs us leading us away and back towards that damn room.

I sit down heavily on the chairs unaware of where her mom is.

She's out of surgery, she's still alive. She'll be okay. They're the only thoughts running through my mind. And maybe it's selfish not to be thinking about her mom in all this but I can't help it. At the moment all I care about is the fact that Donna's going to be okay, that's she's still going to be with me and I haven't lost her.

"When was the last time you put on a new set of clothes?" Donna's mom admonishes gently and I look up at her.

"Clothes? I, I don't know, I…" I'm completely baffled by the change of subject. Changing clothes isn't exactly high on my list of priorities at the moment.

"If my girl wakes up and sees that rumpled shirt and askew tie, she'll spend more time worrying about you then getting the rest she needs."

Okay, so this may be a little freaky.

"I, she, um she's still in recovery. She's not awake yet."

"I know, but when she gets out, she'll be out of it for a while. It would nice if you could be…dressed properly for her."

"Um, yeah I guess." I can feel my forehead wrinkle up and as I glance at her I can see her face darken as she looks towards the door and swallows hard.

"Go." It's an order and she's got that firm, don't-mess-with-me look that Donna sometimes uses and I really don't have any other choice so I get up.

"I don't wanna leave you alone."

She gives me a wry smile. "At the moment that's exactly what I want. I need to think, to sort my thoughts out. I need a little time to myself. Besides you won't be long."

"No, I won't."

I leave quickly and get changed even quicker. Thank God Donna makes me carry a second suit with me in the backpack.

I hurry back to the hospital, taking two cabs. I know Kate's right, if they wanted to kill me they'd have done it by now. But what's the harm in being careful?

By the time I get to the hospital Donna's lying in bed, still unconscious, and her mother sits by her side.

I walk in and she nods her head approvingly. "That's better."

"Thanks." I pull up another chair on the other side of the bed and have that déjà vu feeling return. Was it really just yesterday I was waiting for her to wake up for the first time?

I don't even bother to turn the television on this time. I don't want _anything_ to detract my attention from Donna.

Even her mom stays silent, slumping back in her chair her hand holding her head up.

Patience may be a virtue but it's one I've never possessed. I hate waiting; it's just so…useless. It's a waste of time.

Why wait for something when there are a million different things you could be doing?

So of course she makes me wait.

But that's okay. I've never had to wait for anything as important or precious as this. And it's not a waste of time if it's helping Donna heal. If it does that, I'll wait for as long as it takes.

I'm really hoping it won't be that long though.

It's been too long since I've seen her eyes.

Or talked to her.

Or had her give out to me.

Or boss me around.

She's bossed me around since the first day I met her. People seem to have this idea that Donna'd do anything for me. And she would. I know that beyond a shadow of a doubt. Maybe even took advantage of it on occasion. Maybe.

But really she's the tyrant, not me.

Like I said, she's constantly telling me what to do.

She told me how to act with Joey Lucas.

Oh and wasn't that a great success! You can hear the sarcasm right?

She tells me how to organise my office, not that I do. How to dress, which I will be forever grateful for. Who knew white bowties shouldn't be worn with white dinner jackets?

The first day she lied her way into my office she told me I'd find her valuable.

She had no idea how true those words were.

She's the most valuable thing I have.

And I don't mean that in a possessive I-don't-believe-in-the-rights-of-women sorta way. I know I don't own her, but at the moment Donna and my mom are the two most valuable people in my life.

I don't know why I didn't see it before. Maybe it was because I took her for granted.

I'll admit that.

I did.

I still do.

But that's because I need her so much I can't imagine my life without her. I don't want to.

Those three weeks she left me were a nightmare. And not just because my office was in disarray. My whole life was. I was so grateful that she'd come back I didn't even bother to tease or ridicule her about Dr. Free Ride. I think that surprised her. For days after she came back she walked on eggshells, or hobbled, y'know with the bandage on the ankle and all. Anyway she'd look at me out of the corner of her eye or sideways and I could see her waiting for it. Waiting for me to start. But I never did. I was too thankful to. Eventually she figured out I was never going to bring it up again and we got back into our old routine.

Me asking for coffee, Donna never bringing it…

She stirs and immediately I lean forward to get a better look. I begin to wonder if I've imagined it when Marjorie leans forward as well and runs a hand down her face.

"Donna?" she whispers a hopeful smile on her face.

Donna's brow wrinkles and she groans as her eyes open but then shut again, I guess with the intensity of the lights. She blinks rapidly eventually her eyes opening properly and looks at her mother.

"Mom?" she croaks.

"Hey sweetie." She coos her eyes once again bright with tears. "How are you feeling?"

"Sore." She admits shifting a little. "Drink?"

Marjorie moves to get a glass of water from the locker and holds it up to her while she takes a sip.

She pulls back and turns her head and looks at me, critically, until a small smile forms and she closes her eyes. "You shaved."

"Yeah." I say relieved. "Even got a new suit and everything."

"Good." She says quietly and opens her eyes.

My phones rings shrilly and she frowns again as I move out of the room quickly looking at the caller id.

"Leo, hey."

"Josh. How is she?"

"She just got woke up. She seems okay. I think she'll be okay Leo." I let out a whoosh of breath. She will be okay.

"Thank God." He mumbles. "Josh I need you back. Tonight."

I scrub a hand over my face. Leo has done a lot for me, letting me come over here, letting me stay over here.

"Okay." I say finally. "Okay."

"You know I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important Josh."

"Yeah, I know. See you when I get in."

"Okay."

I shut off the phone and go back into the room. I can actually feel my chest contract when she looks at me. She's awake and alive and well.

Thank you God.

"I think I'm gonna go get a coffee." Marjorie says backing away. "You want anything?" she asks both of us.

"No thanks." I reply.

"Shouldn't you be back at the White House? I thought the country couldn't be run without you." Donna says when her mom leaves the room.

"It's a miracle it's managed to tick over this long with my absence I admit."

She smiles a little tiredly. "You have to go back."

"Yeah." I admit and I feel guilty about leaving her. I don't wanna leave her but I have to. I have a job to do, a job that demands a lot of sacrifices of me and of Donna. This is just another one.

"I'm going home to Mom and Dad's. Do you think you'll be able to manage without me for a few weeks?"

No, I want to say to her on my knees. No, I can't manage six hours without you never mind six weeks.

But I don't.

"We'll muddle through. Everyone at the White House sends their love."

"I miss them." She replies.

"Not half as much as I, uh, we miss you."

Brilliant slip there Joshua. Now is not the time to be making declarations of undying love!

She smirks up at me and raises an eyebrow.

"Yeah, well I, I gotta go." I slowly back out of the room and she sighs closing her eyes.

"Bye Josh."

"Bye Donna."

I turn and walk away but when I reach the door and open it I can't seem to bring myself to walk through it so I pause, my hand bracing against the doorframe as an overwhelming urge overtakes me and I turn back around to face her in the bed.

"Hey Donna?"

She turns her head towards me, her eyes so beautifully blue and clear. I swallow hard and wet my lips before continuing.

"I-I didn't stop for beer."

She blinks startled, I think, and then that amazing heart stopping smile shines from her face. "What about the red lights?" She teases.

"If there were any I didn't see them." I answer honestly and her smile fades just a bit, but something in her eyes comes alive, something warm, something bright and something I want to see again.

"I'm sorry, am I interrupting anything?" Marjorie stands just behind me and finally I tear my gaze away from Donna and flash her a smile.

"I gotta go." I tell her and turn back for a final look at Donna. "I'll see you soon." She nods mutely and I turn already feeling the stupid grin on my face. But I don't care if my nonexistent dimples show full force.

I didn't stop for beer.

Or red lights.

Finis


End file.
